Showers and Shenanigans
by Sara Holmes
Summary: HP/DM. All Harry wants is a nice, relaxing shower during which he will most certainly not think about Draco Malfoy. Easy, right? Warnings for mature sexual content and rogue shampoo.


**Disclaimer:** The characters in this piece of fiction are owned by JK Rowling and THE PUBLISHERS. I think of them as like a gang who would beat me up for infringing copyright. I'm not though, so it's cool.

**Warnings:** Showers, shampoo, slash, smut and smooching. And an abundance of alliteration.

**Authors note**: This is for AlineDaryen who offered 'shampoo' and 'showers' as suggestions for my A-Z of drabbles. That sent my filthy mind into overdrive and deserved much more than a 200 word drabble. Enjoy!

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**Showers and Shenanigans.**

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Harry Potter should have been celebrating, but he wasn't. What he was doing instead was being tired, sore, and grumpy, wanting nothing more in the whole entire world than a long, hot, relaxing shower and then to go straight to bed.

It was almost a full hour since the Quidditch match had ended and Harry was still brooding over the fact that he had never had to work so hard for a win in his life. The final score ended at Slytherin with two hundred and seventy points and Gryffindor with three hundred and ten.

Harry should have theoretically been elated at the win, but was too bloody knackered to celebrate, or even rub it in the Slytherins faces. Not that the rest of the team hadn't done more than their fair share of mocking; crowned with a rather nice 'Slytherins can't catch snitches' chant, led - of course - by Ron Weasley. Harry had to reflect that the chant was _almost_ not completely accurate, because he knew that the blame for his tiredness and aching muscles lie entirely with a certain Slytherin Seeker named Draco Malfoy, who appeared to be becoming rather proficient in the art of catching snitches.

Upon the start of the Quidditch season in his eighth year, Harry had sort of guiltily hoped that after the incident in the Room of Requirement, Malfoy would refuse to play, having developed a pathological fear of flying. No such luck. He was more determined than ever, and seemed to have lost all fear when on a broom, pulling extraordinary stunts and manoeuvres and almost - _almost_ - out flying Harry completely. Harry had been borderline in awe of the Slytherins increased flying skill, but had been most alarmed when Draco had come within an inch of snatching the snitch and nearly ending the game within ten minutes of it starting.

A year and a half ago, Harry would have knocked him off his broom and called it a day, but nowadays things were different. He and the Slytherin had called time on their lifelong feud, abolishing all ill will and rivalry. Except, of course, where Quidditch was involved.

On the day that Harry had met him to return his wand, Draco had apologised for everything he had done wrong, and Harry now found, with a sort of grudging acceptance, that Draco Malfoy was an alright sort of bloke.

So now Harry was in the showers trying in vain to stop thinking about Malfoy, because thinking about him when he was lathered up and naked raised all sorts of tricky questions. Upon coming out of the closet almost a year ago, Harry had set himself a few simple rules to govern his behaviour whilst still in school. One: no thinking about any of his dorm mates in a romantic light. Two: no staring at Draco Malfoy and contemplating what it would be like to ask him on a date even though he had turned out to be a more than alright sort of bloke, and three: definitely _no _thinking about Draco Malfoy when he was naked. So far, Harry had done admirably well on rule number one, and failed pathetically on two and three. Oh well. Couldn't win them all.

The changing rooms were quiet, as Harry was - once again - alone in the room. That he would perpetually be the last team member to get through to the showers was now an inevitable and arduous fact of life; he always had to wait for the crowds of giggling girls that were hoping to catch eye of him as he undressed to disperse.

He reached for the shampoo and started to vigorously wash his hair, which - along with the rest of him - had somehow become completely mud splattered. After eight years of playing Quidditch, that was something he could never understand: even if he flew no lower than fifty feet, he still ended up with mud on him somewhere.

He had just finished lathering his hair and his barely dipped his head under the spray, when there was an ominous groan from what he assumed were the pipes somewhere within the wall. The stream of water from the shower went cold and guttered.

"Not now," Harry groaned, banging on the wall with his fist. The water went warm again for all of three seconds and then guttered again.

"Fuck!" Harry cursed as the shampoo that he hadn't managed to wash out ran down his face and directly into his eyes.

Cursing fluently and with eyes clenched shut and stinging like no other, Harry banged on the wall again, only to be rewarded with the water cutting out completely.

"Oh, shit, fuck, bastard, _fucking_ showers," Harry stormed. He could barely see without his glasses in the shower anyway, let alone when his eyes were full of shampoo.

Wondering just exactly what it was that the makers of _Charmworthy Shampoos and Conditioners _put in their products to make it hurt so damn much upon contact with eyes, Harry blindly reached out for the shower wall, aiming to feel his way out of his cubicle and into the next one, hoping the issues with the water were confined to the single cubicle. He debated trying to find his wand, but then realised he didn't know any pipe-unblocking or shower-fixing spells anyway, and that any water he could conjure would be bloody freezing as well.

Resigned to moving, but thankful that he were alone in the changing rooms, he groped blindly and his hand closed on the flimsy material of the shower curtain which blocked off his cubicle. He pulled it aside with a clear swooshing sound and then stepped forwards, his hand outstretched - and promptly had a heart attack when his hand touched something solid, warm, and very human.

"Shit!" he jumped backwards and tried to open his eyes but the burning pain caused by the shampoo increased tenfold, so he clamped them shut again, panicking wildly. His feet lost their purchase on the slippery floor and he would have fallen badly if whoever had been just outside his shower stall hadn't grabbed his wrists, steadying him and holding him upright.

"Erm, you're meant to wash that stuff out you know…"

Harry's heart did a back-flip and his legs nearly gave out as the supremely unconcerned drawl of Draco Malfoy met his ears, and mortification washed over him as he remembered that he was stark naked. Never mind not thinking about Draco when he was naked, he should definitely add 'no encounters with Draco when he was naked' to his list of rules.

"The shower cut out," Harry managed to stammer feebly, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable that he couldn't see, as well as feeling overly flustered at Draco catching him out like this. It could have been anyone else; why the hell did it have to be him - the one person on the planet that Harry had the most inappropriate crush on?

"Oh. That one does that," Draco said, and Harry was relieved and somewhat suspicious to hear no trace of amusement in his voice.

Draco's hands shifted so they were holding Harry's and Harry was seized with a sudden desire to laugh hysterically - he was blinded by shampoo, completely naked, and Draco Malfoy was holding his hands, which was nice - but ruined Harry's plan of using his hands to cover himself up a little.

Draco gently pulled on his hands and Harry took a stumbling step forwards.

"You can open your eyes, it's not that bad," Draco said, with a bite of amused impatience.

"I can't," Harry said miserably. "Shampoo in my eyes."

"Ouch," Draco winced and then sighed. "Come on."

Harry nearly had his second almost heart attack in as many minutes as Draco moved, slipping an arm around Harry's waist and guiding him slowly out of the cubicle and into the next one. Harry could barely breathe; he could feel Draco's body pressed into his side, and as his hand gripped around Draco's waist he realised he was shirtless.

"You better not be looking," Harry blurted somewhat accusingly before he could stop himself.

"You bet your life I am," Draco replied and Harry felt his blush deepen, wishing the tiled floor would open up and swallow him.

The seven steps it took to get into the next cubicle took forever, and Harry wondered if Draco would consent to being Obliviated after this whole incident was over. Harry had saved his life and all, surely saving Harry from years of embarrassment and mortification would be adequate repayment?

"Why are you being nice to me?" Harry asked as Draco let go of him, and he immediately covered his privates with his hands, although it was probably far too late for modesty anyway. He expected to feel relief but he found himself missing the warm presence of Draco's body alongside his. He chalked it up to not being physically close to someone in a long, long time.

"Because," Draco replied unhelpfully, and Harry felt Draco leant past him to turn the taps on the wall. Water gushed out, freezing cold water, and Harry swore.

"Fucking hell!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Draco said hastily, and Harry heard another tap being turned, a groan from the pipes and then the water ran deliciously warm.

"There, drama over," Draco said, pushing Harry under the spray.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, immediately washing the shampoo out of his eyes. "Er, you can go now if you want," he added when he didn't hear footsteps walking away.

"If I want?" Draco said quietly, his voice loaded with suggestion, and Harry felt his whole body tense up, his hands frozen over his face as the water beat down on him.

"Well-" Harry's next sentence was lost in a gasp as Draco stepped up behind him, his chest pressed against Harry's back and his long fingers coming up to run through Harry's hair, starting to move in small circles and washing out the rest of the shampoo. Harry felt his knees goes weak as Draco continued to massage firm circles on his scalp, applying perfect pressure and making him want to moan out loud.

"What are you doing?" Harry groaned, not making any effort to step away.

"I have no idea," Draco replied thoughtfully. "It's kind of nice, though."

"You can say that again," Harry blurted out and felt Draco chuckle.

"I have to admit…you do look good all wet and lathered up, Potter," Draco murmured and Harry felt a jolt go through him as Draco pressed a kiss to his shoulder, his tongue gently lapping at his wet skin.

Harry's heart was pounding and his mind was racing - could it be that Draco actually fancied him too? His brain told him the answer to that question was a resounding _yes_ as Draco kissed his neck again and one of his hands slipped out of Harry's hair and ran tentatively across his waist.

There was an appreciative moan and Harry wasn't sure which one of them had made it. Draco's hand slipped around Harry's waist and then lower, across the ridge of his hipbone, long nimble fingers skirting lower and lower, coming tantalisingly close to Harry's crotch - oh _God._

Harry turned in Draco's arms to face him and his eyes locked onto Draco for the first time since he'd encountered him in the shower. Harry wasn't sure what he had expected to see, but what he did surprised him a little. Draco looked hesitant and a little uncertain, his teeth worrying his lower lip, but the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

Harry's eyes dropped and he saw Draco was only wearing a pair of black boxer shorts which were now completely soaked, the thin fabric clinging to his body. Arousal burnt through Harry as he eyed the dripping wet Slytherin in front of him, a sensation that was heightened as Draco reached out and touched Harry's lips with his fingers, stepping closer so he was nearly touching him again. Before he could think about what he was doing, Harry tenderly kissed Draco's fingertips and heard the sharp intake of breath from the other boy. The sound was followed swiftly by a groan as Harry, seized by a sudden impulse, gently bit on the end of Draco's forefinger, drawing it into his mouth ever so slightly, just enough to touch it with his tongue.

"Potter-" Draco was trembling now and his eyes fluttered shut as Harry rolled his tongue around Draco's finger, wrapping his arm around Draco's waist and pulling him up close to him so the spray from the shower covered them both. He could feel Draco's cock pressed against his own and rapidly hardening as Harry continued to swirl his tongue around Draco's finger.

Draco moaned quietly once more and then apparently against his better judgment and with a struggle, withdrew his finger from Harry's mouth. Harry would have considered it a tragedy if Draco had not then come closer, his face only inches away from Harry's and his breath on Harry's face, so close that Harry could taste him. Unable to think of anything else he'd rather do, Harry closed the gap between them, pressing his mouth to Draco's. Draco's breath hitched in his chest and after a brief moment responded eagerly, his lips parting and enabling Harry to touch his tongue against his.

_Oh fuck, this is good_, Harry managed to think dazedly as Draco flicked his tongue against Harry's before gently sucking on it, causing Harry to grip hold of him even tighter and whimper incoherently.

"Wanted you, for so fucking long…" Draco panted, removing his mouth from Harry's to kiss along the side of his neck instead - hot, open mouthed kissed that were turning Harry to mush and making him want to-

His body was obviously working a lot faster than his brain because before he managed to finish the thought, Harry had pushed Draco up against the wall of the shower cubicle, capturing his mouth in another searing kiss. Draco gasped; whether from the kiss or the cold tiles on his back Harry didn't know, but he found he didn't care because Draco was blindly pushing his own boxers down and kicking them off with some difficulty, pressing his hot body back into Harry's the moment he could. Circling his hips and grinding his dick against Draco's, Harry lost his remaining shreds of self control. He didn't care what happened as long as it was _more_; he probably would have let Draco bend him over and fuck him at that moment - actually, fuck just letting him, Harry was about to start begging. His body had well and truly wrestled control from his brain, admittedly without much of a fight.

"God, Malfoy, I need…" Harry broke off with a gasp, tilting his head back under the spray of the shower as a hand slid down his side and pushed between their bodies, following the same path that the rivulets of water coursing down his body did. He would have complained about the loss of friction against his groin as Draco moved back slightly, but then Draco gently trailed his fingertips over the head of Harry's cock and all thoughts of complaint were obliterated.

He was going to pass out, he just knew it. The hot water that was steaming up the space they stood in, the fingers that were slowly but surely circling his cock and the sight of a naked and soaked Draco Malfoy, his head bent as he looked down at his busy hand, his chest heaving with his panting breath- the combination was beyond arousing.

"Oh, God."

The breathed words came not from Harry but from Draco, and Harry had a split second of wondering why _Draco_ was the one to call out for god in such a beautifully strangled voice when Harry was the one that was on the receiving end of what was shaping up to be a spectacular handjob. Draco's grip was firm and delicious as he slowly ran his hand up and down Harry's shaft, his thumb flicking lazily over the head on each pass. Harry's hands were by no mean idle; they ran up and down the wet skin of Draco's back, from his shoulder blades down to cup his arse and then back again, repeating the motion endlessly, not wanting this to ever come to a halt.

Draco's kisses left Harry's mouth and trailed along his neck, biting down on his collarbone as he reached it, making Harry cry out in something he wasn't sure was pain. Harry's hands trailed up Draco's back one last time and then rested on his shoulders, lightly at first but then with more pressure as Draco stooped slightly, his mouth travelling lower and lower.

"Pushy," Draco murmured and he was right; Harry realised he was now pushing Draco down with considerable force and Draco was actually allowing and complying with the rough handling, obediently dropping to his knees and kissing the top of Harry's thigh.

Harry looked down and moaned aloud, knowing that if he lived to be a thousand he would never forget this image; Draco on his knees, his mouth pressed to Harry's thigh and his tongue visibly lapping at his skin with each open mouthed kiss, his hair wet and his fringe plastered to his forehead, water running down his face. It was if Draco had crept into Harry's head and immediately found his favourite fantasy, the only thing missing was- oh holy _fuck._

Harry's back arched and his fingertips dug into Draco's shoulders tight enough to make the skin beneath turn white. Right on cue, Draco had found the missing piece of the fantasy and set about employing it with unbridled enthusiasm. His hand stilled on Harry's cock and he held it steady, his tongue coming out to swirl around the head before taking it in his mouth and sucking harshly.

"Oh my fucking _god_," Harry gasped, one of his hands threading into Draco's wet hair as his hips snapped forwards of their own accord. The hand Harry had in place on the back of Draco's head stopped him from pulling back as Harry thrust his cock deep into his mouth, but it didn't appear Draco wanted to pull back. Rather than moving away, he moaned around Harry's cock and his hands shot up to grab Harry's hips and he pressed them forwards, Harry's cock slipping deep into his mouth once more.

Harry thought he was about to have a seizure as he felt the head of his cock squeezed by muscle and then Draco fucking _swallowed_, his entire throat contracting gloriously around the head of Harry's cock, his nose pressing up against Harry's crotch- Harry's hips jerked again, his cock slipping out and then down Draco's throat once more and Harry couldn't stop, and Draco was letting him, and it was so fucking _good: _If Harry had been capable of rational though he would have realised that Draco had stopped sucking and Harry had started fucking, but he probably wouldn't have cared anyway considering how good it felt. Draco welcomed each pump of Harry's hips, occasionally groaning in the back of his throat and gripping Harry tighter.

One hand left Harry's hip and Harry forced his eyes open to see Draco had taken hold of his own neglected erection and was masturbating furiously as Harry continued to his fuck his mouth with abandon. The sight was too much for Harry and he felt his orgasm approaching with breakneck speed; his hand left Draco's shoulder and joined his other one on Draco's head and he pushed forwards one last time, holding Draco's mouth onto him with force as he came, spots bursting in front of his eyes and a hoarse cry leaving his mouth, his head snapping back with the force of his climax.

Draco pulled back away from him sharply and then his whole body shuddered under Harry's hands and he echoed Harry's pained cry, coming hard as he frantically fisted himself, his release quickly washed away by the shower.

Draco rested his head against Harry's thigh, trying to catch his breath. He stood up unsteadily and leant against Harry who was having to lean back against the tiled wall to support himself. Draco buried his face in Harry's shoulder, still panting heavily.

"There," he panted, his voice hoarse. "All clean."

Harry found himself laughing weakly, wrapping his arms around Draco's shoulders and wondering if Draco would punch him or call him some derogatory names for wanting to do something as mushy as _cuddling_. Warmth that had nothing to do with the water spread through Harry as Draco returned the embrace, wrapping an arm around his waist, holding him close.

"Wow," Harry breathed and Draco chuckled softly.

"Yep, I'll agree that that definitely merits a wow."

They stood there for a long moment until Draco shifted away, reaching over awkwardly to turn the water off, leaving the changing room eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the steady drip of the shower head and two sets of still heavy breathing. Much to Harry's disappointment Draco moved away further, slipping away from Harry and out of the shower cubicle. Harry fleetingly wondered if Draco had come and run but he reappeared soon enough, a clean fluffy white towel draped over his shoulders and another in his hand.

"Here," he said flinging it at Harry who caught it and smiled sheepishly at him, wrapping it around his waist. Draco made no similar movements to cover himself up at all, instead draping the towel over his head and towelling his hair roughly. Harry took the opportunity whilst the towel covered Draco's face to sneakily eye him up and down.

"Finished eyeing me up?" Draco asked and Harry flushed as Draco pulled the towel off of his head and eyed him with amusement.

"Yeah I think so," Harry replied and Draco shot him a small smile, taking Harry by surprise by stepping up to him once more and pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.

"Erm…dare I ask…" Harry asked tentatively.

"No," Draco said lazily, kissing him again. "Don't question a good thing."

"So this thing…I take it it's a one off?" Harry asked, full of uncertainty.

"Do you want it to be a one off?" Draco said, finally taking the towel off his shoulders and wrapping it around his waist, which was a shame really because it severely limited the body parts that Harry could continue to perve on without obstruction.

"Would you laugh at me if I said no?" Harry asked cautiously.

Draco appeared to ponder his question, cocking his head to the side in mock thoughtfulness. "Maybe a little," he finally said with half a smirk and Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot," he sighed, looking down.

"Yes, but I'd like to be _your_ idiot," Draco murmured, kissing Harry gently on his lower lip.

"You- what?" Harry asked, slightly disconcerted. Had Draco seriously just suggested what Harry thought he had?

"Me, you, dating," Draco said with a bite of his old impatience back.

"Oh!" Harry said and grinned, hardly believing that Draco _had_ meant what Harry had thought. Oh God, Draco wanted him too, he wanted to date him, be with him- Harry quickly put a leash on the wave of glee that was rolling through him before he could start babbling and embarrass himself, instead nodding casually and saying, "yeah, that's good."

"_That's good_," Draco repeated, now taking his turn to roll his eyes at Harry. "You're doing my ego the world of good, Potter."

"Get over it," Harry grinned and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, feeling tingles through him as Draco's hands rested on his waist, fortunately on his skin and not the towel.

"Are we going to stand here in a shower cubicle all day or shall we go somewhere else?" Draco drawled, his hands moving over Harry's waist to rest in the small of his back.

"My room or yours?" Harry said cheekily and Draco looked up at him and _smiled, _a full blown smile that reached his eyes and made Harry's heart do a funny flip-flop inside his ribcage.

"I knew I liked you for a reason, Potter."

Harry grinned in return and leaned in to kiss Draco again, idly thinking that he was going to have to rewrite most of his former rules, most especially the one about not thinking about Draco when he was naked. Oh well. If he was going to do something wrong, he was damn sure going to do it _right_.


End file.
